In For a Penny
by SSJL
Summary: There was no going back to the old Alicia Florrick.  Life made sure of that.


**A/N: ****Ugh. Guys. I've been so out of practice with fic - have barely read it, let alone been writing it - but to get myself back in the game I picked up this story I had started early in the summer and abandoned; since angsty K/A was the comfort zone I ended on, it made sense to go back there to unrustify myself. So this isn't groundbreaking stuff by any means, BUT AT LEAST I WROTE, RIGHT?**

**Don't answer that.**

**Spoilers for Ham Sandwich (2.17), warnings for cheating.  
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><p>She had hesitated before she pulled out the expensive make-up she only used on special occasions – the French mascara that made her eyelashes look miles long, the ruby powder lipstick that stayed put and glossy through several glasses of champagne. Later, she'd wonder if that pause was the old Alicia – the <em>real <em>one - warning her not to play with fire. But more likely, it was just habit.

"You sure you're okay with this?" Will asked her, sounding tender in the way he did when they spoke privately, while she was pulling on her heels with the phone tucked between her ear and shoulder. The multi-tasking was annoying; she wanted to hang up and get moving.

In the full-length mirror, black pumps (_no pantyhose) _and smoky eyes were reflected – she gave them a cool appraisal. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. You just left things… kind of weird, I thought." His voice was careful over the line. "I could come along, if you want."

A spritz of perfume. "It's been more than a year. Pretty sure Kalinda and I can make it through one drink without a chaperone."

Will chuckled graciously, realizing the relative wisdom in backing off when her tone got clipped like this. "Okay, okay. Call me when you get back? Maybe if it's not too late, I can come over. Watch a movie."

Although she was in a hurry to get out the door, she felt a pang of affection that stung like pain. "I will." She smiled, so he'd hear it through the phone.

"And tell her I said hi… and to stop by the office before she heads back to D.C. Just because you were her favorite doesn't mean the rest of us don't want to see her too."

More promises fell a little too easily from her lips before she hung up.

* * *

><p>This certainly wasn't the nicest bar they'd ever met in. The table-top felt sticky, like she wasn't the first person who'd been here tonight drowning her anxieties and sorrows. The air was too warm, too; malfunctioning AC, maybe, but likely just the excess of bodies in the room.

It was her imagination that the eyes of all the patrons were flickering over her, between beats of the music and conversation. What _was _a good girl like her doing in a place like this, really. A respectable person, with children, with a loving and attentive boyfriend waiting for her to come home so they could maybe watch a movie.

But Alicia was waiting for something here – a moment she had earned since the day Kalinda said goodbye.

She wasn't going to be intimidated away, and she wasn't going to miss it. And the good girl thing had gotten old long ago anyway.

Kalinda arrived about twenty minutes after Alicia sat down, and about five minutes before she started to question her resolve. Her old friend stood out against the backdrop of the bar – the way she always did, in any setting. Heads always turned, double-takes were made.

She looked exactly the same as she used to. Alicia didn't know if this were comforting or not.

Kalinda's eyes tracked slowly across the bar until they came to rest on Alicia's. There was a pause then, without either of them moving; a cliché, Alicia thought, several of them, gazes meeting across a darkened room, tension in the air, the prodigal one returning to her roots - her wary kin. Only Kalinda had never done the tail-between-her-legs thing, not _really, _and as wary as Alicia was, it wasn't as much as she should have been.

A small smile and tentative wave from Alicia brought her over. Alicia stood and hugged her when she arrived at the table, because that seemed the thing to do when you hadn't seen someone in so long. Kalinda was tiny and hot, like she'd been out in the sun for a long while (although it had been dark for hours, hours); she hesitated for a fraction of a second before hugging back, elbows held wide like she was touching a dangerous thing.

"Hey, stranger," she said softly, into Alicia's ear, the lilting tone stirring up memories that Alicia had done well at repressing.

Strange, indeed.

They separated, and Kalinda gave her a perusal up, then down. "You look good." A tad too bright. "Being senior counsel agrees with you."

Alicia was briefly surprised Kalinda knew this bit of information, before remembering who exactly she was dealing with. She let it go, knowing that her looks tonight had very little to do with her position at work.

"Do you want to sit? I started without you, but we can fix that."

"Yes, please." Drinks would always be their comfort zone, and Kalinda seemed relieved to steer back to it.

It was more of a beer joint, but Alicia had ordered bourbon when she first arrived, and Kalinda followed suit now. This little reunion required booze with a backbone.

They were both quiet for a bit, while Alicia studied the face she'd once seen every day – one that had inspired fondness and comfort, fury and humiliation. Kohl liner accentuating already-huge dark eyes. Fine cheekbones. Sharp chin. Plum lips. So much the same, and it made Alicia remember…

Time didn't really heal all things, but maintaining the savage ire she'd initially felt for Kalinda after her dirtiest secret had aired was exhausting, and it had filled Alicia with a weariness that she just couldn't afford to hold onto forever. She needed that energy to deal with her kids and Peter and Will and her job, and it surprised her that she felt like it was giving up nothing, the day she leaned on the doorframe of Kalinda's office and said without prelude, "I'm tired of hating each other. Can we not do that anymore?"

"I never…" Kalinda had started, before she realized that an argument defeated the purpose. "I'd like that," she'd amended quietly.

And there were no meaningful smiles or hugs or thoughts of picking up where they left off – just a small adjustment to the thermostat that made the days more bearable than the ones before. No more narrowed eyes across the board table, no more rerouting around Kalinda's office to minimize the chance of contact. Professional courtesy had never felt like so much of a relief.

So then there was consulting again, collaboration. It seemed less and less strange to pick up the phone to call Kalinda for help. And eventually it was almost second-nature again. Collegial. Pleasant may have been pushing it, but… not uncomfortable.

Until that time things warmed to a notch above chilled, after the long day and the long case, when they found themselves alone in the office and Kalinda produced a flask out of her desk. One shot, two, a toast to success. They might have even laughed once or twice, and things got a little fuzzy around the edges. Then, strangely enough, those plum lips came into perfect focus.

And a moment later…

This wasn't the time for memory lane. The tides had turned, and Alicia pulled herself back to the Kalinda of here and now. The one who had gone, and had now returned.

"The feds, hmm?" Keeping her voice casual was an art form. "I would have thought there would be too many rules for you, working for _the man._"

"You would think," Kalinda agreed, but didn't elaborate. Alicia had enough experience with politics to know what she meant.

"Do you like it?"

Kalinda tilted her head in consideration. "I keep busy. I'm good at it."

It had never occurred to Alicia that she wouldn't be good at it. "Not really the question, but okay." She watched as an intoxicated gentleman, who'd been giving eyes since Kalinda's entrance, bumped into her chair, leaned over and whispered in her ear. Kalinda's eyes switched to Alicia, and then back up to the interloper, before she shook her head in the negative. It looked like he was about to try again before Kalinda said a few more words and fixed him with a stare; his eyes widened before a sheepish smile took residence on his face and he put hands in the air, a surrender, before backing off.

Alicia shook her head. Kalinda was like a Siren – utterly irresistible and unapproachable at the same time. It wasn't even worth asking about, despite Alicia's curiosity about what Kalinda had said to him. Kalinda didn't volunteer the information.

"So have you talked to anybody else recently?" Alicia asked instead. "Cary, or Diane?" She doubted it; after Kalinda had left, Cary had occasionally asked when they crossed paths in court (his voice in a practiced-nonchalant tone) if Alicia had heard from her. A few months of this, he eventually gave up, and Alicia had the small comfort of knowing she wasn't the only one who had been completely left behind.

Kalinda frowned down at the table. "I'm… not so good at keeping in touch."

"I noticed." Faced with the risk of resentment seeping in too quickly, Alicia softened her tone. "You should give them a call while you're here. They miss you. Will, too," she added, remembering her promise.

"Noted." There was a moment of silence before Kalinda seemed to remember that reciprocity was a prerequisite to conversation. "So… what's happening with you?"

Alicia eyed her above the rim of her glass before she swallowed. "You're going to have to be more specific than that."

A half-eyeroll. "Okay then. Will."

It may have been the natural choice. All the time they had spent in bars like this one, talking about _Will, _Kalinda artfully probing with one word or two, making Alicia _say things _that she often regretted in the morning.

Perhaps understandably, Alicia never _had _gotten back to the place where she talked freely. They'd been working on it, she thought, but then…

She lifted a casual shoulder. "We're good. We're having a good time."

Kalinda repeated the words with her eyes alone… _a good time. _Sipped carefully at her bourbon. "So you haven't given that poor man a commitment yet?"

_Poor man. _Alicia gaped at her, and hated, _hated _feeling guilty. "I am _not _getting a lecture about commitment from Kalinda Sharma?"

Kalinda shrugged. "It's not a lecture. I just figured… Will can be persuasive. I thought he would have persuaded you by now."

Will _was _persuasive, it was true. In fact, she'd been giving serious thought to his gentle insinuations that maybe they should move in together – after all, the kids were finally warming up to him, and her higher position in the firm meant that the power differential wasn't so frowned upon. And they'd been dating for awhile now, and this is how adults did things, dammit.

But Kalinda didn't have to know all the details. And it all seemed very far away right now.

"I guess I'm not all that easy." Alicia challenged, and she meant it to sound more playful but it came out with sharp edges. It wasn't as cool as she had been trying to be, and she brooded over her drink at the failure.

"Of course not." Voice softened by a fraction, this was as conciliatory as Kalinda got. "I guess I thought it was what you wanted too. And… I wanted that for you. If it were what you wanted."

Either the bourbon or the talking in circles was making Alicia feel a little dizzy. This was taking a patience reserve that she'd once had in plentiful supply, but now had dwindled to the tune of two affairs and too much betrayal.

She took a healthy swig before she bit the bullet.

"So are we just supposed to not talk about it, or…?"

The boldness of the question felt satisfying, leaving her lips; not as unnatural as it once might have.

Kalinda held her glass with two hands, staring down at it. "I'm not sure there's much to say."

In the early days of their friendship, Kalinda would avoid, and Alicia wouldn't push, and that was their rhythm. But these weren't the early days, not at all, history had crept in and settled and refused to budge. "Really?"

Frustrating silence from the other side of the table. So Alicia tried again.

"So there's nothing to say about the fact that we kissed, and then _literally _two weeks later, you ran halfway across the country like your ass was on fire?"

There was some pride in putting it out there. It was not as if _she _wanted to talk about it, either, but talking was the mature thing, and it seemed time to make-believe they could be grown-ups about all this.

There was barely a ripple, barely a beat; as if Kalinda had anticipated this, had a ready answer. "Maybe one of those things had nothing to do with the other."

So this was how they were playing it.

"Suspicious timing," Alicia replied shortly.

Kalinda's face was a practiced portrait of impassivity. "Coincidence, maybe."

"Yeah. Maybe." She could have sounded less scathing, but she chose not to.

"You make it sound like I just ran off without saying goodbye."

It had been the only thing she'd said that had mattered. When her departure was announced at an impromptu meeting, Alicia's jaw had slackened and she stared dumbly; Kalinda accepted the other employees' congratulations and hugs and 'we'll miss yous' and wouldn't even look at the woman who, a week before in a darkened office, she'd had pinned lightly in the desk chair, hands braced on the armrests and lips more tentative than Alicia ever would have expected.

That moment had changed _so much _for Alicia, and then…

The coward's way out. _Goodbye._

Again, it seemed Kalinda had found other things in the room more interesting to look at than Alicia. "It was a good work opportunity. I liked working at Lockhart Gardner, but I had exhausted all prospects of advancement. And it's not like…"

"…like we were friends anymore?" Alicia interrupted. Somehow, the more Kalinda talked, the more annoyed she was getting.

"I didn't think you'd take it so personally."

Nothing had changed. Absolutely nothing.

Alicia drained what was left of her drink; gave a tight and artificial smile, set the glass back down and gestured to it. "Well. Guess we accomplished what we came here to do. Suppose I'll be going."

What had she expected? That Kalinda would come here, apologetic, admitting to what she'd been running from… that she was running at _all_? That she would say it was time to stop this _faking it, _that they could live their lives in different orbits, forgetting about when they were circling in the same one, to the same gravitational pull?

"Alicia. Don't…"

"What. Leave?" She tossed two bills on the table with a careless flick, hating herself for having been here in the first place, for risking everything for nothing. "You don't get the privilege this time, Kalinda. I think it's my turn."

It wasn't such a bad parting line, she thought as she walked away, and she regretted not being able to see Kalinda's face to know if she hit the mark.

* * *

><p>The moon was glinting in the side mirror, and she turned it away. Key to ignition, a simple motion, but her hands wouldn't quite operate for it. She could hear her own breathing, hear her pulse beat, hear her <em>memories, <em>and they all seemed too loud.

There was one time, long before any of this happened. Long before presidential suites, long before divorce, long before _you slept with my husband, _and Alicia was a Good Person_. _Owen had brought over a bottle of scotch after the kids had gone to bed, and it wasn't really Alicia's drink of choice but easy conversation always made such things go down a little easier. Her two-finger glass quickly became six, and she was lucky she still managed coherence by the time Kalinda had called with a case update.

"You jumped to _that _one fast," he'd insinuated after she got off the phone, and she'd told him, just Kalinda. Just the in-house investigator. "Someone likes the in-house," Owen had sing-songed, and in the split-second where she didn't roll her eyes or smack him or say _anything, _he did that thing where he looked through her like she was cellophane, and that was that.

She would have expected him to give her a hard time, because that was his trademark, but maybe it was obvious that this was a delicate matter – one that, with careless handling, would push her so far away as to be completely unreachable.

"Shit, Alicia," he said quietly, swirling his drink in a poor attempt at nonchalance. "Do you think she might feel the same way?"

It was a stupid question, pointless, and Alicia absolutely never let her mind go there except when it did, when she started wondering how Kalinda _felt, _what she _thought, _if sometimes, ever, she looked at Alicia and imagined…

"Doesn't matter," she told her brother shortly. _Don't push it, don't you dare push it, _radiating from her, and Owen didn't. He just poured her another drink.

Despite her impending drive home, she wished she had another drink now.

A sharp knock on the window, and she glanced over warily; saw Kalinda's leather jacket and the belt around her waist before she leaned down. Alicia pushed the power button and the glass lowered.

"Yes?" she said, curt.

"Let me in?"

Alicia thought about denying her, making her work for this; punishing her for the wasted time and lost opportunities.

She thought about Will, waiting patiently in his condo for her call, waiting patiently for _her, _because he cared about her that much. And she cared about him.

The fact that it was a question, rather than an order – the tentativeness in Kalinda's voice was what made her cave.

She hit the automatic locks, opening them. While Kalinda walked to the passenger side door, Alicia raised the window again; once Kalinda was inside and slammed shut the door behind, they were isolated inside the car - in their own little world.

Silence. Kalinda gazed at her darkly. Alicia raised her eyebrow. She wouldn't make the next move. Kalinda had made the choice to go; now, it was _her _responsibility to come back.

"What do you think would have happened?" Kalinda asked her. "If I'd stayed."

Nothing. Everything. A disintegration into awkward avoidance, a torrid affair. Anything, _anything_ would have been better than this cowardly retreat, and Alicia wanted to punish her for taking the possibilities away.

"You tell me."

"I was trying to protect you. You didn't need all the complications."

A harsh laugh burst out of her. "That's bull and you know it, Kalinda. You've only ever tried to protect yourself."

"I'm here now, aren't I?" Kalinda's voice was taking on an edge of… something, and in the moment Alicia relished in it… the _getting to her._

"And somehow, still avoiding," she mocked. It was a dare, a bait. This was a dangerous, dangerous game, and still she couldn't help playing it.

Kalinda's eyes flashed. "You won't be able to take it back. Not even if you want to."

It was a fair warning, born of experience. But Kalinda wasn't the only one with experience anymore, and Alicia had already made this choice before she had even walked into the bar tonight.

"Why don't you give me something to take back?" she asked, and had no idea who she was anymore.

The baiting finally worked.

* * *

><p>"Push it up. Just push it," Alicia hissed, as if that weren't what Kalinda was doing already, shoving the material of the skirt up around her waist while Alicia squirmed. She lifted off the seat, and there wasn't enough space for this, not at all. The steering wheel was in the way, the gear shift, there was a <em>reason <em>people usually did these things in the back seat. Their hands were clashing as they both worked to get her panties down, and God, even though it was just two days ago she felt like she hadn't had sex in months, years.

Kalinda's fingers weren't as nimble as she expected; they trembled against Alicia's thighs, her hips. "Alicia… fuck." Her name came out like it hurt to say it. "I don't want to…"

Oh no. She wasn't getting out of this one. The time for consideration and ethics and morals had passed, long ago and far away, and they had no place here. Alicia took hold of her hair, just a little too hard – a warning – and Kalinda stopped talking, just heavy breathing and steamy windows and the desperate shoving aside of clothing.

Kalinda's head lowered. Alicia wasn't even sure if it could work this way, her legs could only spread so far, Kalinda was off at an angle, the console was…

_Oh. _Yes. Yes it could work. Alicia's eyes widened, her hips tilted up –an electric arc, flaring, shocking, and yes, hadn't she known this? She had known from the second she read the email (_Back in town. Drink?)_, from the second she agreed, that it would end here. That all the space had served to do was inflame her, make her less careful.

She had imagined it, throughout the past year; as she lay in bed with restless legs and mind, the shape of Kalinda under her clothes, the way her mouth would feel, and now Alicia found that the thoughts had not prepared her for the reality of this – the heat of her, the scent of her, real and human and _here._ And Alicia wanted it. She'd _been _wanting, and now there was a selfish glut of taking, fisting her hand into Kalinda's hair and forgetting about everyone else outside this car.

It _was _so, so selfish. It was unfair. It was unfair to Will, with his endless patience for her, only for her. It was even unfair to Kalinda, to put her back in this role –the homewrecker, the one-time fuck, the very thing that had earned her Alicia's castigation in the first place. It was unfair to Alicia herself, to take all her complex and meaningful and unresolved feelings and cheapen them into _this._

As she came with a growl against Kalinda's tongue and fingers, she found she didn't give a damn. It was worth it. It was worth _all of it, _and even if it weren't, there was no going back to the old Alicia Florrick. Life had made sure of that.

* * *

><p>There were some activities even that the most expensive lipstick couldn't withstand. When it was over, Kalinda blotted it off her face with a tissue. Alicia rebuttoned her blouse with a tremor to her hands, overwhelmed by the weight of the silence in the car. She felt she still couldn't quite catch her breath; her fingers still felt hot from where they'd been.<p>

She looked askance at the woman next to her. Kalinda's expression was unreadable. The enigmatic Miss Sharma, and Alicia hated her and loved her and ached for her and wanted to feel none of it.

"Why'd you come back here?" Her last button slid in place, and if anybody saw her now she might be able to pull off the lie of the good girl again. Or maybe not. "Why now."

Kalinda glanced over at her, eyes black coals in the night. "I wanted to."

"It's still about what _you _want, hmm?" It wasn't surprising in the least.

A frustrated breath, and Kalinda tried again. "I couldn't not."

It was strange, to hear Kalinda admit to being out of control, about _anything. _A bitter victory.

"But you're going back." Fact, not a question.

There was a pause, a space for several rapid heartbeats. "Not tonight."

From a million miles away, the vibration of a text message. Alicia blinked several times before remembering the purse she'd tossed carelessly into the back seat. Inside of it was her tether to her other life – a life she could never fully ignore, because her kids were in it. She grabbed for the purse, and her phone, letting out a breath when she saw Will's name on the display.

_Let me know if you've had too much "fun" and need a ride. _ _Love you._

"Who?" Kalinda asked, and Alicia gave her a dazed look.

After Peter, she had given herself leeway to go a little wild. Be a little selfish, have a little fun – not be so damn _good _or _nice _all the time. Just for awhile, cashing in on some of the saint-points she'd earned. Once Kalinda made her impromptu exit, it was easier to return to her life of responsibility and restraint – hard work and early evenings and lower hemlines and a steady boyfriend. Propriety really was her comfort zone.

Now, looking at Kalinda with her swollen lips and nakedly desiring eyes, Alicia wondered if she had been fooling herself – if there were no selfish phase, no _temporary, _but a serious, fundamental change to her DNA, something that had been ripped out and replaced along with her heart. Because she knew what she should do. She should go home. Sleep off this ridiculous buzz, this high – write off tonight as the finishing of some particularly messy business, taking from the one who had taken from her and evening up the score. She should lose Kalinda's number, block her email – focus on Will, because _they _were the great love story, the college sweethearts who found their way back to one another after a long and complicated road.

She knew all of it, knew it was the only path she could even begin to feel good about.

But instead, she slipped her phone back into her purse. "Get out," she told Kalinda, and before her face could complete its fall, Alicia added, "Drive to your hotel. I'll follow you."

There was another moment of surreal sensuality as Kalinda pressed into her, breathless, bruising kisses of thanks and punishment before Alicia pushed her away. "Go. Hurry," she urged, and this time Kalinda obeyed.

One the door slammed shut again, Alicia examined herself in the rearview mirror. Her heartbeat slowed, her trembling hands stilled. A decision made, she was filled with unearthly calm. A quick search inside her purse and she found that expensive ruby powder lipstick; it was silly to put it on now, knowing what was coming, but it felt appropriate. Others thought of sin as black, but she'd always visualized it red.

She saw the twin reflections of headlights behind her. They flashed once, an already-accepted invitation, and she put the car in reverse.

There'd be time for guilt later.


End file.
